We drank the night away before I realized he hadn't signed my poster for An Arsonist's Guide to Writers Homes in New England, a brilliant piece of marketing with quotes from the book set up as rules to follow when torching historic homes. I was thinking it would look lovely with my signed posters for Choke and Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. Plus, I was going for an even fifty for things I need to get framed.

Two am was a distant memory. Brock was understandably reluctant for me to run across the street, open the locked store, grab the poster, and run back.

"I'll be back for Miami Book Fair. I'll sign anything you want, I promise."

Seeing my lack of enthusiasm for this idea, Brock offered his Ace in the Hole.

"I'll sign your ass," he said.

I worked Miami Book Fair, but my ass and Brock's pen somehow missed each-other.

A few months later, this happened:

PHASE 1: This will be awesome - wheeeee!!! Thanks so much, Lane!

PHASE 2: She realizes she is the most ticklish person who currently exists.

PHASE 3: Lane discovers how hard it is to erase wavy Sharpie Lines from skin.

After mortalizing the bibliophile monkey inside Becky's biceps, Lane Smith was on a high. When he found out Becky and I were a couple, he turned to me and said, "How about one for you? I could put it right on your ass."